LadyRunic

X-Men: Cosmic Crusades 👽

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Richard Laine

Location Cells

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Richard nodded slightly in agreement with Charlie that the others would notice the blood. Yet the assassin couldn't help but point out the problem. "If they come out that way. Jakobsen would be clever enough to hire apt people. They could have diverted the others, or covered it up with another sort of accident." His words were spaced out between pained breathes as his head felt dizzy. Digging his nails weakly into the meat of his palm, the man's face was a mask of pain.

Then again, they weren't out of luck completely. Even if she was not the older and more adept, Thalia the younger could be able to aid them. [color=Olive]"Thalia, my dear, don't happen to be able to use your powers, can you?" His words clashed in a strange way as the man fought to think straight through the pain. Being shot did that to people. As did bleeding out.

Ayita Dyrkin

Location Cells

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Ayita ducked her head slightly, her eyes not meeting the others as she turned her amber gaze away. There was enough wolf in her still despite her powers being gone. It was habit now more than anything else. "If there is hope that he might change his mind, perhaps. I do not know or trust much of human kindness." And with good reason. She had seen the brutality of humans. Had been hunted enough. That her first instinct had been to kill the hunter spoke of her mindset. She was in the mode of sheer survival and that- for Ayita= was a dangerous thing.

Wrapping her arms tightly about herself, the younger Laine sighed pressing her head to her knees as she fought back the worry and instincts, that while they were not aided by the beasts and birds, were still there. Her own mind, her own instincts. Urging her to fight to flee. She was injured and thus fighting would not be a wise move. Sighing a small whimpered noise. "It is a rare thing."

Blood's Jewels (Closed)

Blood's Jewels

“Terreille in Trouble”

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Faeril Ashkevron

Location - Ashkevron Residence in Askavi

The Eyrien woman look up sharply as her blue eyes- a trait that did not come from the long lived races- narrowed at the Queen. "So you are awake." Faeril set the spice aside as she plucked the bottle from the Hayllian's hand, shaking it randomly over the stew. Leaving the questionably stew to boil, the woman moved about the kitchen cleaning away the mess that had been left in her wake. "The men are not back yet, but your... former Court lives." The large, leathery wings opened and closed as Faeril shifted slightly. Unsure how much Fatima knew of her lineage, unsure what could be said on that account. Yet in the end, what could she say? She had not been meant to see that, so the Black Widow kept her peace. Her lips thinning at yet another weight to her already burdened heart.

Thus, when she spoke again her tone was cold and dispassionate. "Denar, Belor, and Gen are taking them to the border where they will leave them to their fate. We cannot risk crossing into Hayll." The unspoke 'and lead the guards back to you' hung in the air, as the dual caste Widow and Healer sat at the heavy table. With the weight of the Askavi mountains about them, Faeril doubted that Fatima felt comfortable. The eyrie itself was like a maze in it's ever twisting halls and plentiful rooms and the masonry that carved more- when needed- from the living mountain. Many of the other races found it unnerving, much to the hardened woman's amusement. Pouring herself a cup of tea, coffee being something she never had the taste for save on her most tiring of healings, Faeril Called in a second cup using the Craft to pour the tea and slide the hot beverage over to a second chair. Her Red Jewel was not as strong as it had been, but she wore the red, and Beneth had- by far- been the lesser. "I did as was nessecary, nothing more. They are fine aside from several broken bones and bruises. Much the same as my boys." Considering all three of those so-called boys, were Warlord Princes (albeit wearing the lighter jewels) Faeril failed to bite back the slight smirk at what their reaction would be to such. For the many years she had spent with them, came with a good bit of friendly and familiar amusements.

@Torack The barkeep snorts in annoyance. "Youngster now a days." He mutters to himself, frowning. The sharp yellow gaze however turned to the battered Andressa. Small bruises peppering the woman's skin from where the assailants had held her. Opening his mouth as if to say something, the door opened with a wood cracking thud as three Eyrien warriors tumbled in. Each looking battered as if they were part of a barfight- which they had been. Lucivar would note one of being a Green Jeweled Warlord and the other two Warlord Princes of the lighter ranks. Rose, if one were to go by the Jewels about their necks. "Mother Night. Run through a horde of Jhinka?" The grizzled barkeep snarled at the trio.

"Just about." Complained Denar with a snarl as the witch began to fuss over him. While there was nothing between the two, they were allies against the twisted Queens. Which allowed the witch to give the Warlord Prince a scolding look and sharp jab to a particularly ugly bruise, eliciting a yelp form the foolish Rose Warlord Prince. Belor gave into the treatment with little fuss, seeing all the good it did his brother. "No, just doing some work for the Healer. Ashke can be the right taskmaster." The snarling male huffed, as he studied the two new comers with some interest.

The Green Jeweled Warlord, however, was sharply looking at the bruises that covered Andressa from the attack on Greyhaven. His golden eyes narrowed along with those of his brothers. "Lady," His stance was nothing but respectful as he eyed Lucivar with a unspoken challenge. "Are you quite well?" The deadly quiet in that voice was a unspoken question as to how the witch gained her injuries, and for all that he and his brothers were battered and bruised. They would see to it that justice was meted out. Sensing the other Prince Saroths rise to the killing edge, the barkeep's daughter stepped away quickly. It never turned out well to be caught in a fight between Warlord Princes. With careful steps the three fanned out. Belor, the worst injured with his bloodied wings and two black eyes, drifting towards the door and most likely to summon aid.

~Nyte Bloods~

@Mister ThirteenNot a worry, school comes first.

~Nyte Bloods~

@Mister Thirteen That could work!

~Nyte Bloods~

@Mister Thirteen

And I apologize if I've slipped, or belly-flopped, into a dictating position. A thousand pardons I beg.

It happens and we'll all guilty of it at some point or another, so no worries! I hope I didn't sound too harsh.

As for the drab apartment scene. Alice needs to get out of it and most likely embroiled in bigger things especially if Liam is being so persistent. As for things I have a few things to point out. Liam knows Alice greatly desires her shop back, so does Aleera. Aleera knows Alice would do almost anything for that, include lure Liam. So perhaps you could do something with that. While Liza may not be aware. Alice knows politics to a degree as her family while not embroiled in them was embroiled in social acrobatics with business parties and such. Aka: Really high end family that tried to make Alice follow that same life. Something she never wanted to be a part of. Perhaps we could do something with that.

As for getting her out of the apartment. She needs it. For her own health she needs it. Perhaps Liza could drag her out to the bar in an attempt?

Darke Magyk - Concluded

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Rhys Asher

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Location: His home

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Rhys ran his hands through his touselled hair that was appearing more brown than red from a lack of washing. He should the wizard knew, but he was loath to leave the apprentice he had taken on. A responsibility and duty he had not looked for. A tool to wield to his own means, yet a tool that went both ways for Rhys had grown to care for the boy known as Badger. Pressing his hands together between his knees the rogue Wizard looked at the brew of herbs that seemed to ease the boy's pain. While he tried to appear patient and bored, there was a pucker of worry about his brow as he stared at the grey skinned, black eyed boy who thankfully was asleep.

He had gone to see the Messenger Rats constantly. Badgering Fluer about the plague of strange sickness that had dared to strike down his apprentice, not that he said it was his apprentice who had been lain low. Rhys, however, could not deny his messages had carried more than a mere note of worry and the constant barrage of the rats were probably irritating the Witch Mother. He had shared with her his failures and successes. Oh, of course there were things he held back. Small tidbits that he wasn't sure of. Hints of things. While he was desperate, he didn't fully trust Fleur. The woman was now the Witch Messiah on high.

And it unnerved him.

Running a hand over his face, Rhys stood up and stalked from the room after casting his spells to conceal and protect the room. Spells of warning and watching as well, in case something went wrong with the boy. Food and water were in easy reach. Spells to ease his pain and ease some of the humility of being bed bound. Rhys shook his head. "Fight it, bo- Badger. You got your name for a reason." The gruff wizard encouraged in his own bleak way. "I've got a errand to run and then I'll be back." He wanted to tell the boy not to worry, to not get worse. But what would those words really do? Show his weakness, and it was something Rhys balked at. As a man and as himself.

Settling the spells in place he thumped down the stairs and out the door onto the street, hastening his way to the Wizard's Tower and the Castle proper. Perhaps some tome or scroll existed. Why'd he risk exile, imprisonment, or death over one boy was something that was lost on him. Rather Rhys had convinced himself this was all for his own health and well being if he did fall ill with the damned plague. Casting a Disguise spell about himself to give him a plain face and hair, something that would be easily forgettable or look like it belonged. Rhys however was careful to make his eyes a bright, innocent green. Though he could do nothing to hide the worry in them.

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Skaoi Silverveil

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Location: Palace - Traveling to Infirmity

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Skaoi gave a small sigh as she lay amidst piles of books and notes, smudges of ink staining her fingers and one cheek standing out starkly against her pale skin. Her usually pristine clothing was stained and creased as she stirred weary still from a long night spent pouring over books and notes and trying different mixtures, seeking a cure for the Sickenesse. Her hair, usually neat and straight, was a messy braid that had seen more work than care. Blue eyes which were lively were pale with weariness and her face was lined with worry. The physik had been working herself to the bone and beyond in the past months to try and ease the grip the Sickenesse had on it's victims. It had gotten to the point she had left her home in the Forest to live- temporarily anyways= at the Castle in the Servant's Quarters.

Rubbing at her eyes, and unaware she was making a mess of herself giving her already shadowy late night side effects more of a ringed look, Skaoi looked over the notes she had been working over when she had fallen asleep. Ink had been smudged and there was a bit at the tip of her pale nose= dabbed at constantly as she had been nodding off as she had tried to keep writing. Keep working, she thought absently. Find a cure. It was her path. Pouring herself a glass of clean water from a jug, she drank heavily before turning back the work before her.

Pushing aside the ruined notes Skaoi peered at the tome she had been reading from. Her slim fingers absently soot streaking her hair as she brushed aside the formly pale locks. Dibbing a pen in some ink the woman set about noting the Burning Fever- an apt name. A Coven Mother had suffered an uprising which had tried to use the disease to lay low their leader, but it was they who had fallen. To ash to be specific. With a sigh, Skaoi stood and plucked the book from the table as she wandered from the stuffy room she had been given. Her feet tracing the path to the infirmary, skittering about people as she studied the pages carefully.

Her own notes tucked beneath one arm had it's own brand of information. Apparently Magyk herbs helped, but the dose would only grow with time. A stay over, nothing more and thus useless in the long run. The Sickenesse was not spreading like other diseases, something the Physik was grateful for. Had it not, she would be finding herself elbow up with the dead instead of just four bodies. Her lips turned down into a frown at that thought. She disliked loosing patients. No, Skaoi hated it. Hated failing those she was supposed to help and heal. Rather, Skaoi paused in mid-step saving herself from running into a wall, it seemed to be haunting the Magyk users. Greedy for the power that dwelt within them. For the use of magyk connected all the victims.

Turning from the wall she continued towards the Palace Infirmary, her nose almost glued into the book that revealing secrets she devoured. Hope that she craved to spread to her patients. Yet fear gripped her heart as she read the words 'Sleeping Dead'. A Dark Wizard who tried to take on the Founder, was it?, of the Wizard's Tower when it was first formed. Her face would go pale if it could, Sleeping Dead did not bode well. Was there something more to this ash? To this death? Her hand fumbled for the knob on the door to the room she had been travelling to as she reread the passage in the book.

~Nyte Bloods~

Alice gazed absently at the paper before her. It had been some time since the disastrous ball, since she had visited her shop which now surely was in the hands of her father and his greedy spawn- her brother. The dark lock about her finger was twisted out of shape as she stared at the paper without really seeing it. While she had tried to embrace life as one of the night walking, blood suckers, it was quickly loosing its charm. With a city keeping it's eyes out for Alice Lynch and a stalker who would do anything to get his hands on her, going outside was a stressful experience for the young vampire.

Scattered about her were different designs, doomed to be forever trapped in paper. Their color and forms would never be brought forth to the needle and cloth. Never pressed upon delighted forms of people to make them shimmer and shine. Alice herself was colorless in her dejected state. While she still kept herself healthy, Alice did little else. Becoming the shadow she had been when living with her family before she had left and been disowned. The latter which was now forgotten as her family was trying to navigate this scandal of her disappearance and keep their fortune intact. Alice doubted they would have any problems, but she was mourning. Her passion had been imprisoned by fear, her desire to listen to jazz and drink good tea quelled by the consistency of it.

The lessons with Liza were hardly any better. Alice's skill at fighting were abysmal to put it lightly. She had no knack for it. Running? Oh, she could run for her life and hide quite well. But actually fighting? Alice had known it was a mistake when she had first asked, but surely it would not be so hard! The woman almost laughed at her foolishness. It had been hard- worse than hard. With a needle and thread she could annoy and 'polite' people to death, but give her a knife and she was likely to cut herself. Odd considering she had little problems cooking. Wrapping her arms about her knees the young vampire rested her forehead on them and gave a soft sigh. Was this what eternity would be like? Hiding away in a hovel? Loosing what she desired most because of some scandal or other that would happen as she faked her death. Thankful at least she had been able to refund and respond to many of the clients she had had. Claiming there was a emergency and she would be out of business due to the 'situation'. Something that someone had taken to the police. They had been even more furious. But how could they trace her? She had dealt with it all from her own computer at her home.

She had salvaged some of the precious items. Pieces that could not be remade, items of sentimental value. All stored away in one of the bags carefully. One was a coat so like the one she had sold Liam that fateful night. But the detail in the minuscule embroidery had been tasking. Taking her hours and years to complete. It laid out over Liza's bed. The sun glittering over the thread she had carefully prepared those years ago. Two colors wrapped about a third. The buttons were not a overly tacky gold but a softer silver edged with the gold. The dark material of the coat was not black, but a deep red mixed with the same thread technique under a deep ebon-grey and black. A interior lined with dark silver. It had been a part of a paired line she had done. The matching dress- one she had kept for herself- lost in her store. The coat alone was worth a fortune, the dress to match with it? The price would allow her to open her store in another country and live contently while business picked up. Her eyes blurred with tears at the thought of selling the magnificent piece.

~Nyte Bloods~

@Mister Thirteen I'm not sure what to do to be honest. Alice fighting isn't really something she does, so from the get-go she will suck at it and improvement won't be "Wow! You're a natural.". She sucks and that's the long and short of it. She is limited with what she can do, to the point I'm stumped. My apologies, but it's rather irritating.

I get why Liza ripped the letter up and everything, but I'm also not going to lie. It feels like I'm being funneled into playing a certain role. Which I'm not strictly against, but it is difficult when you're worried about stepping on toes. I mean, Alice is trapped in an apartment all the time. She doesn't feel comfortable going out. Learning to spar and fight would be very hard for her. Essentially Alice will be taking a nose dive in the 'happy' department.

[High Casual to Low Advance] [18+] Wide array!

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X-Men: Cosmic Crusades 👽

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Richard Laine

Location Cells

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Richard gave a sharp inhale as he bit back a moan of pain. It felt like he had been shot- which he had been- and left out for a herd of crazed buffalo to run over. Casting a irritated look at Dean, the man gave sigh that was broken. "No." He registered a sharp yelp of delight from Ayita as she threw herself at the glass separating them. The bleeding had slowed down, though he still was far too aware he was in a pool of blood. If there was any mercy in the world his powers would kick back in sooner rather than later, but his belief in mercy was something called nonexistent. "I'm fine. Alive perhaps, rather than fine." He amended as he studied the group his head throbbing in beat to his life's pulse.

It seemed Allison was the least damaged out of all of them. Good, she was perhaps the one who would be the most useful aside from Dean at getting them out of this mess. Provided they could get out of this mess. Noting the certain winged woman who appeared much younger, Richard tried and failed to give a charming smile. [color-Olive]"Glad to see a familiar, and beautiful, face. Aside from my dear's sister relief."[/color] A blood streaked hand pressed against the glass to mirror Ayita's own as the siblings shared relief they were alive.

Ayita Dyrkin

Location Cells

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Ayita's soft keening had stopped when she saw the blue-green eyes slide open, the mouth tweak into a grimace of pain. Damn the glass that separated them! She wanted to break, shatter, dig through the barrier but it was hopeless to do so. Naked relief shone in Ayita's face, softening the wild features and blunting her anger. Knocking her away from the dangerous edge that she had honed in order to seek vengeance if not survival.

Richard was alive! For now at least, a cynical part of her mind noted with some disdain at the glass cage they were locked into. Like a animal at a zoo. Her amber eyes flickered open as she studied the others, actually seeing them without the distorting worry and fear that had made her mind a whirlwind of ways to kill their captors. "Would the rat bastard even care? He locks people away. Who is to say he won't do so to his own child." Ayita had every reason to think of this. Her own mother had been the trigger for her own powers and had declared the girl a monster. Had Anita Laine been a bit more unhinged it would not have been a long step from taking a knife to her own flesh and blood.